


Accord

by Jacen



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Explicit Consent, F/F, Femslash, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacen/pseuds/Jacen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As their time on the Fury Road looms near, The Splendid Angharad visits Furiosa with an unusual request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accord

It is very late-so late that she's actually in bed instead of tinkering with her arm or cleaning her weapons-when Furiosa hears bare feet padding along the hall outside of her door. She has told them countless times not to visit, but it doesn’t seem to matter-since the wives worked out how to open their vault, they have taken advantage of that small slice of freedom at every opportunity. Mostly they go to the end of the hydroponics to breathe green air and listen to something other than a fan’s ever-present hum, but sometimes the bravest of them come down to see her. It’s different with each of them. Toast comes just because she can, picking up small trophies along the way. The Dag always has a question the other wives can’t answer (Furiosa usually can’t either, but the question isn’t really the point). Angharad…

The door opens and the pregnant woman slips into Furiosa’s narrow quarters. Angharad always looks like she is trying to memorize everything about being outside of the vault. She carries anger and determination like a halo everywhere she goes. As the months have drawn on with slow progress on the plan, she has started showing up more frequently. It’s gotten so Furiosa expects her on certain nights. They only talk briefly about the plan, then it’s on to other things. Angharad is an eager student of life in the wasteland and the scraps of history Furiosa can recall about The Green Place. They spent an hour listing kinds of fruit once, Furiosa telling Angharad whether or not they were in The Green Place and what she remembered them tasting like. 

Tonight does not look like it will be one of those nights, not with the distant look on the visitors face. Furiosa tucks her legs so Angharad can sit on the bed. The blonde is fidgety, folding and unfolding her hands, watching the far wall rather than the woman next to her. Furiosa says nothing, just pushes herself to rest her back against the head of the bed and leave the other woman some room. When it becomes clear that Angharad is just going to wind her hands forever unless Furiosa speaks up, she puts elbow to knee and tries to catch Angharad’s eye. “Long way or short tonight?”

Angharad’s lips twitch into a brief smile. “Short. The warboys are drumming, nobody was in the way.” She unfolds her hands and very deliberately braces them against the bed on each side of her body. There are little drops of sweat beading up on her bare skin from the heat of the cavern. “It doesn’t bother you?”

“Do the fans bother you?” Furiosa looks at the door. “Only bothers me when they try to make me go.”

Angharad nods. “You don’t?”

“Sometimes. When I want to.” 

The silence, punctuated by distant throbs of drums and echoed whoops, falls between them again. Angharad looks at the wall, the floor, at anything but Furiosa. This time Furiosa lets the silence hang, trying not to stare or move much. It’s clear that Angharad has come for a reason, though she has never seemed so reluctant before. The warboys song ends before she moves again, turning to Furiosa while staring almost directly down at her own hands. 

“I need something,” she says awkwardly, as though she still isn’t sure it’s the right phrasing. 

“What?” Furiosa prompts. It's strange to hear kindness in her voice, but being softer comes easily with Angharad. 

“I want…” Furiosa expects her to ask for a weapon, a poison, something to wound Joe or herself (not that Angharad seems to have any trouble finding the latter). She does not expect Angharad's shoulders to slump, for her to heave a great sigh, then to finally look at Furiosa and say, "I want a lover."

Furiosa's eyes narrow in anticipation of some further detail, but Angharad is done speaking. She stares at Furiosa expectantly, as though this is something an Imperator has lying around, ready to be loaned out like a spare gun. "Why?" Furiosa asks as Angharad pulls her legs up into the bed. 

"I..." Angharad flicks one hand as though the gesture will summon an explanation. It doesn't, only a slight tilt of Furiosa's head. "I want to know what it's supposed to be like. What it was in the old world. There are parts of the books in the vault where women have a choice. No one tells them who they're with. It...I want that. I want to choose."

Furiosa nods, looking down at her own hand. "Thought about who?" She glances at the door, then Angharad. The other woman dodges her eyes again, looking off and to the side. "I can’t suggest a warboy. They're too impulsive. You might get hurt." Angharad's eyes flick back, study Furiosa for a breath, then return to watching the wall. "What-”

“You.” Angharad cuts her off with that single syllable, bringing the room back to silence. Furiosa stares at the unmarred side of Angharad’s face. The wife looks like polished bone in the yellow light. Her features are handsome, her jaw tight. Her posture is stiff, braced for whatever counterargument Furiosa might mount. “My choice is you.”

“Why me?” Furiosa’s voice is soft, a query rather than an interrogation. Angharad’s hands flex and go slack.

“I don’t want a man. To the men, I am status, I am power, I am another shiny badge on Joe’s chestplate.” Angharad's face remains turned to the wall, but she watches Furiosa out of the corner of her eye. "The only women I know are Toast, Cheedo, Capable, The Dag, Miss Gitty and you." Her hand flicks again and once more no easy explanation comes. "I don't trust Miss Gitty and I don't want to ask the others."

"You don't want to feel like they did it just to please you." 

"I don't want to use them like he does."

All there is for a long time is the distant drums and soft breathing. Furiosa's expression is inscrutable. Angharad is watchfully still. When Furiosa finally moves, it is to lean back against the wall and rest her hand in her lap. "You don't think you'd be using me?"

Angharad turns, moving closer along the bed. Furiosa stays as she is, waiting, watching. "I know that if you don't want to, you'll say no. And if you say no, that's it."

"And this isn't about the plan."

Angharad's lip curls. "No," she states flatly. 

Furiosa studies the stark white crisscrosses above Angharad's eye. The other woman doesn't dodge the look this time. It is Angharad's turn to be patient. "What are the rules?" Furiosa asks, still contemplating the scars.

"No means no." Angharad taps her thumb against her knee. "No matter what."

Furiosa's answering nod is slow. "Alright."

Angharad fixes her with an intent look. "Yes?"

The corner of Furiosa's mouth curves. "Yes." Another silence draws out until Angharad begins to work the knots that hold her clothing together. Furiosa reaches for her, lays her hand over Angharads. "Only if you want to," she says, releasing her hand and rising from the bed. Angharad continues to shuck her clothing as Furiosa shoots the bolt shut on the door and wedges her work table against the jamb. 

The drums sound on as she returns to the bed, sitting once again in front of Angharad. The blonde woman is nude, her white garment draped at the foot of the bed. In the low light her skin looks like aged ivory, sun-touched and yet still pale. From her neck to her ankles there are occasional scars, little white stitch marks on her skin. Furiosa could make a good guess at the origin of each one. Angharad's back is straight, her hands folded in her lap as she is studied. Furiosa's eyes try to skip over the swell at Angharad's middle but she forces herself to look, to follow the curve of her belly. 

The brush of fingers against her shoulder startles her. Furiosa looks up into Angharad's face as the wife's palm smooths over her shirt sleeve a second time. "I'm sorry," Angharad says, lifting her hand. "You were staring. I can put my wrap back on."

"No, leave it off." Furiosa unbuttons her pants and undoes the zipper with one limber move. Shimmying her hips and using her toes and legs, she pulls them off. Angharad reaches out as Furiosa starts to work her arms out of her shirt. 

"Let me?" Furiosa nods and Angharad scoots closer, pushing the pants off of the bed. She takes the bottom of Furiosa's shirt in both hands and lifts, drawing it over her head slow and steady. Dirt and grit drift onto the bedding as Angharad guides the collar up and over, then pushes the top off of Furiosa's arms and drops it to the floor. "May I?" She asks, staying close until permission is given. Furiosa's head bobs, and Angharad kisses her. There is not much to it, just dry lips on dry lips for a moment, but a blush burns along both of their cheeks. Angharad makes a sound in her throat that rises as a question. Furiosa answers with an open mouth and a gentle tongue, her hand finding Angharad's cheek to keep her still. The kiss winds long, until Angharad puts her arms around Furiosa's neck and pulls them body to body. 

Furiosa gives up Angharad's lips to kiss her shoulder instead, her arm dropping to catch at the other woman's hip. They are both warm from the caverns heat. Where their bodies press, sweat prickles and drips. Angharad's skin is soft under Furiosa's gritty touch, but she does not yield easily. Fingertips following the edge of a thin scar, the Imperator draws a shuddering breath from the wife. Angharad pushes towards instead of drawing away, grinding her jaw into Furiosa's shoulder as the sensitive skin along her hip is tickled. Her palms rub slowly up, then down the Imperators back, concentrating on kneading the knots from the muscles she finds. Her breath hums as the tickle turns to tingling that twitches unfamiliar nerves between her thighs. Turning her head, she finds Furiosa's neck and kisses her, just at the back of her jaw.

The shiver that follows the kiss is unexpected. Furiosa's hand splays, then grips on Angharad's thigh as she moans into the blonde's ear. The answer is another kiss to another sensitive spot, another reminder of how long it's been since Furiosa welcomed such an intimate touch. She skates her hand up Angharad's side, brushing a thumb against the curve of her breast and leaning back just enough to catch her eye. Angharad sighs a 'yes' into her ear, the sound becoming a high gasp when Furiosa's palm strokes over the soft skin. Though her hand is callused and rough from the desert, her touch is deft. She uses those harsh patches to tease, trailing them past the sensitive peak, then finding nerve-paths along the delicate skin below that rush spikes of want to Angharad's core. Angharad's breathing flutters in Furiosa's ear and she untangles their legs. Wrapping an arm around Furiosa's waist, Angharad braces her knees on either side of the Imperators hips. As the Angharad lowers herself, Furiosa tilts her face up, catching her in a slow, languid kiss. 

Angharad's hands roam and her hips shift in time with the gentle patterns Furiosa sketches on her breasts. When Furiosa's hand trails lower, one of Angharad's takes her by the wrist, guiding those dancing fingers from the rise of her belly to the curve of her waist. Furiosa's nails trace the edge of one rib, then scrape delicately down Angharad's spine. The moan that rises from them is mutual, and Angharad's kiss borders on ferocious. Her forward surge presses Furiosa's back against the head of the bed, Angharad's hands fisting around the makeshift bed frame. She exploits the leverage, tongue and lips running rampant until Furiosa's careful touch slips from her back to her inner thigh. 

The kiss slows. Angharad's hands loosen. Her arms find their way around Furiosa's back. She nuzzles into Furiosa's neck, breathing hot air against her collarbone. The Imperator's hand is still. The only movement she makes is the steady rise and fall of her chest. 

Angharad's breathing slows to match Furiosa's. Her eyelashes catch on Furiosa's chin. When they are breathing in sync, Angharad closes her eyes, then rests her hand over Furiosa's wrist. As she guides the other woman's fingers along the soft skin of her thigh, she feels Furiosa's other arm press against hers. 

"Angharad." Furiosa's voice lacks its usual force. She sounds breathy, but calm.

Angharad rests Furiosa's fingers against the wet heat at her centre. 

"Angharad." This time Angharad looks up, meeting Furiosa's eyes. They are deep, the colour of the night sky after the sun is gone. This close, they are not narrowed or guarded-in their openness, Angharad can see affection and want in equal measure. "Say no, if you need to."

Angharad releases her grip on Furiosa's wrist, still studying her face. Her breath shudders in her chest, then she closes her eyes. "No," she murmurs. Furiosa's hand moves instantly, withdrawing to rest on Angharad's knee. Angharad's body twinges at the loss, the tension stiffening in her shoulders. She tilts her face down, her brow furrowing in deep thought.

"Your choice," Furiosa affirms, kissing Angharad's temple. "Your pace."

Their breath cycles, in and out, four times. Angharad's eyes open. She runs her fingers up and down Furiosa's forearm, feeling her way over countless tiny scars and marks. Furiosa watches, holding perfectly still as Angharad collects herself. When Angharad's fingers encircle Furiosa's wrist and lift, both women take a long, deep breath. Angharad raises her head and leans against Furiosa's other arm for support as she brings her hand between her legs.

"Please," Angharad says, releasing Furiosa's wrist, feeling her knuckles brush against her heat. A drop of sweat trickles the length of Angharad's spine, tripping up her senses in the moments before the pause is broken. Furiosa's long fingers stroke against Angharad, touching the wet curls and measuring the warmth that pulses against her fingertips. She moves slowly and with great care as she presses with her palm, then rocks her finger side to side until it has slipped between Angharad's lower lips. With long, leisurely strokes Furiosa explores, listening to Angharad's panting gasps for cues. Lighter here, firmer there, always just dodging her clit. She builds on every sensation that earns a positive response, avoiding the touches that give Angharad pause. 

When Furiosa's finger first brushes against Angharad's clit, she yelps, then buries her mouth against Furiosa's shoulder to muffle her response to the next stroke. Her hips twitch when the touch comes again and Furiosa begins a faster, rhythmic motion. Angharad bucks in time with Furiosa's hand, grabbing the frame of the bed and the back of Furiosa's neck in between shocks of pleasure. The rise of sensation quiets her, moans turning to gasps pressed into Furiosa's shoulder.

She tips her hips when the peak is too close, kissing a 'slow' into Furiosa's mouth, then rides out the first wash of feeling. Her fingers tremble, her body tenses. When she moves against Furiosa's hand again, she holds her breath, fighting her body's urge to grind down into the other woman's palm. She can feel herself throbbing with every touch, the edge of her pleasure achingly close. 

"Kiss me," she murmurs, pulling Furiosa to her and rocking her hips at the same time. The kiss catches Angharad just as the touch undoes her. Pleasure overwhelms her, turning the kiss rough and desperate and the steady rock of her body to a sudden buck. She shudders, the feeling beginning at the core of her and shaking it's way through her limbs. Angharad is helpless, clinging to Furiosa as she is wracked by orgasm until only trembles remain. Through it all she is quiet, venting her passions in gasps and pants. 

Sweat and tears mingle on Furiosa's shoulder as she eases her hand from between Angharad's legs. She catches up her blanket and pulls it around Angharad's shoulders. "Are you alright?" Furiosa asks. 

The first reply is a tightening of Angharad's arms around her. "I can't stay up," Angharad murmurs, blinking and rubbing her cheek against Furiosa's chest. "Can we-?" Furiosa is moving before the question is done, lowering both of them to the thin mattress. She lets Angharad curl against her, fixing the blanket, then draping her arm over the other woman. Silence falls, the drums finally quieted for the depth of night. The tears stop as Angharad’s breathing slows. She wipes the remnants away with the back of her hand, aware that Furiosa is watching every move. 

“I didn’t hurt you?” Furiosa asks as Angharad settles again. 

Angharad shakes her head and leans up for another slow kiss. “I’m not hurt. It just...started,” she responds, resting her hand on Furiosa’s hip. "I don't know why."

"Okay." 

There is another kiss, then another, tender and easy. Angharad rubs her palms over Furiosa's back, then her sides. She traces the muscle in Furiosa's arms with her fingertips, then runs them back to her shoulders. The exploration continues down her spine to her hip, then Angharad smoothes her hand along Furiosa's thigh. "Can I touch?" She asks between kisses, her hands already crossing Furiosa's body towards her chest. 

"Yes," Furiosa answers, expecting another kiss to follow. Angharad draws back instead, shimmies down the bed and kisses each nipple. She looks up, wide-eyed, when Furiosa sucks air through her teeth. There is a moment of hesitation until Furiosa nods, then Angharad kisses her from breast to collarbone. The taste of her is salt and something dark. Furiosa rolls easily into her back as Angharad licks and kisses from right to left. She is ready when Angharad's mouth descends over her nipple again, sighing and arching under the touch.

Angharad moves again, puts her hands on Furiosa. She traces ribs, follows the rise and fall of Furiosa's breathing and feels the tone of her stomach. As her fingers brush the hollow of Furiosa's hip, Angharad pauses. "May I?" She asks, her palm flattening, fingers brushing back and forth at the top of Furiosa's thigh. Furiosa's lip curves as she parts her legs.

"Come between," Furiosa suggests, bending her knee to make room. Angharad shuffles to the side, letting Furiosa drape one leg across her knee. She touches Furiosa's inner thigh first, feeling the stickiness there. The smell of her arousal is potent as Angharad dares to move her fingers closer to Furiosa's centre. She runs her thumb through the damp curls, looking up as Furiosa writhes her shoulders into the mattress. Next she tries her forefinger, following a crease of skin into the moist heat between Furiosa's folds. She loses her place immediately when Furiosa's hips jerk. The other woman mumbles a shaky apology as Angharad finds her way again, slower still than before. She is prepared when Furiosa's hips move this time, keeping her hand in place through the motion. The twitch becomes a steady roll as Angharad begins to move her hand in time with Furiosa's body. 

The feeling is foreign at first, but Angharad is a quick learner. Press here and she sighs, touch there and she moans. Angharad kisses Furiosa's knee as she moves, changing her angle, finding new places to touch. Sliding her fingers further, she slows, waiting for some cue from Furiosa.

"Should I...?" She trails off, sliding up and down again. 

Furiosa sighs as Angharad's fingers graze her clit, then reaches for her hand. "Yes," she says, laying her palm against the back of Angharad's hand. "Here." Slowly, Furiosa guides her fingers down, pressing as they reach her opening. She hums as Angharad moves deeper. "Like that."

This is a more familiar movement. Angharad pumps her fingers firmly in and out, eyes intent on every move Furiosa makes. She expects gradual stillness or silence, and gets neither. After a first throaty moan, Furiosa clasps her hand over her mouth, stifling the sounds that follow. She moves her whole body with Angharad's hand, pulling her deeper with every grind of her hips. When Angharad's thumb rubs into her folds again, Furiosa bucks. The force of the motion nearly pushes Angharad away. She leans closer, works her hand faster; Furiosa arches her back and bites her palm. Her inner muscles seize on Angharad's fingers and her body stiffens. Angharad continues to move, uncertain how to make it last. 

As the orgasm passes, Furiosa lays back on the bed, panting. Angharad feels the muscle around her fingers shudder and slacken. She begins to draw her hand free, but there comes another tremble. She stops, pushes her fingers in and out again and Furiosa moans her name. "Keep going?" Angharad asks with another stroke. Furiosa's thighs quake and she nods. With the next thrust, she swivels her hips and reaches for Angharad with her hand. The wife grips her palm and pulls Furiosa up into a kiss, underscoring the motion with another deep press of her fingers. 

"Stay close," Furiosa murmurs, wrapping her arm around Angharad's shoulders. Angharad rocks her hand again, covering the moan she earns with a kiss. She does not give up Furiosa's lips, using her fingers and her leverage to coax more sighs and shudders free. With every thrust, Furiosa drags them both down, until Angharad is moving over her with feverish intensity. 

Angharad's eyes close as she feels Furiosa's legs shake against her hips. All she can hear is Furiosa's gasps of pleasure; all she can feel is sweat and skin and glorious heat. Her body twinges at the friction between them. She memorizes every sensation, until she can’t stand to be out of the moment any longer. "Touch me," she whispers as she buries her face in Furiosa's neck. "Please." She feels Furiosa's hand along her side, then between her legs, and the intensity of her response carries her off into a bright blur of sensation.

When she regains herself, it is cooler. She is fitted against Furiosa, her nose burrowed against Furiosa's shoulder. Their legs are tangled. The Imperator's arm is loose around her waist. Angharad's wrap is draped across their bodies. Her hand rests on Furiosa's stomach, feeling her drawing long breaths in her sleep. She counts them, one by one, marvelling at this moment of peace. The calm draws her along, and it is no time at all before she closes her eyes and succumbs.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended to release this when the Bluray came out, but I sort of got mine early! So it's a few days late. Fury Road was one of my favorite movies last year, and I absolutely had to write about my two favorite characters! I hope you enjoy my work, thank you very much for reading.


End file.
